


With A Promise In The Corner

by fungumunguss



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungumunguss/pseuds/fungumunguss
Summary: “Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.”― Mother Teresa





	With A Promise In The Corner

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything in Gilmore Girls. I am merely dabbling in their world.

With A Promise In The Corner

_“Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.” _

_― Mother Teresa_

She’s got pretty eyes, he thinks, a big sea blue, wide like a doe’s. Her head is held high, but not in the way the prissy girls do, in a way that gives her confidence, not an ego boost.

She’s got a pretty smile too. One that hides a promise in its corner, with a faint blush always creeping up onto her cheeks. It always _so easy_ to make her blush and it’s _endearing,_ _unbearably _so, and he can only imagine just how stunning she’ll be when she’s older, when she’s able to wield it with purpose rather than letting it slip through.

It’s then that she turns and smiles at him, and his heart flutters, just a bit, and he realizes that she’s not just different; she’s in a _whole other galaxy_. She’s so high above them, like an angel looking down and sometimes he wonders if that’s exactly what she is.

A guardian watching over him, even though she often glares at him for calling her Mary and with a promise tucked in the corner of her smile.

…

It’s the final play when she comes out wearing a silly costume but she still takes his breath away. He can see Paris muttering something about how it isn’t accurate to the time period but honestly, _who gives a fuck_? She’s stunning, an ethereal beauty, and it only makes him want her more. Except he’s a dick, and she doesn’t like him…

But she _kissed_ him, even _with_ having a boyfriend, and they’re supposed to do it again, and he can’t wait because _she’s perfect_, like her kisses.

Sweet and tender, in the _best way_ possible.

Except he fuck’s it up, ruining _what could be_ and gets sent off to some military place where he’ll never see her again, and she’ll never remember him and he’ll never see the promise tucked the corner of her smile.

…

He’s about two years in the army and she plagues his mind. Over and over like a song on repeat. He can’t sleep without her blue eyes coming up in his dreams.

A fantasy he loves more than he’d like to admit. She’s the only thing that keeps him going. The faint memory of their first and last kiss, the brief and stolen glances in the halls of Chilton.

Some days he wishes he could be young again and be different, so he could hold her in his arms and see the promise tucked in the corner of her smile.

…

He’s fighting a losing battle with the opposing force. Bombs are going off around him, dirt flying into his face and he winces as he fills his rifle again. The sun beats down like a drum, burning holes into his skin. He’s going to be _so red_ when he gets back to base.

It’s then that his partner rushes out of the hidden trench to the other side. He yells for him to stop, _what is he doing_, and with great force he gets out himself, sending his partner to the side as his own body receives the silver bullets meant for the other guy.

He collapses on the ground, defeated, wondering why everything’s going hazy. He touches the wound in his chest and raises his hand to see a glistening red liquid dripping down the calloused fingers. He realizes then, what’s happening to him.

He’s dying.

And his only wish is to see the promise tucked in the corner of her smile one last time.

…

His eyes slowly blink back to life to a blaring glare of too bright lights. He’s been so used to the sun that the fluorescent burns his eyes.

There’s a flurry of motion around him, and he has to blink a few more times to properly gather his bearings. He can feel their eyes staring at him, and as the fog from his mind begins to lift he realizes he’s in a hospital, not dead but alive.

“Tristan? You there buddy?”

He’s here. _He’s alive_. Slowly, his mouth opens, parched and in a croaky voice “Yeah.”

And then he falls asleep as the morphine runs higher in his veins, sending him into a dreamless state with a faint picture of a promise tucked in the corner of a girl’s smile.

…

He’s no longer a part of the military but rather sitting on his mother’s porch in Hartford, in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

His mother looks on with concern etched into her face. He hasn’t spoken since he’s been back, hasn’t uttered a word about the trials he’s been through.

She never wanted this life for him, didn’t want to see her baby boy shipped off to some unknown location only to see a letter from him when he could which was rare.

She just wants to see the promise he used to have tucked in the corner of his smile.

…

“Tristan?”

A slight turn of the head let’s her know that he’s heard her. She sighs, sadness filling her heart.

“We have guests coming over tonight. You will talk with them yes? I know they won’t be okay with silence.”

Another nod.

“And maybe, if you could smile when they come. That would be lovely.”

Truth be told she just wants to see that promise. The promise that things will be better.

…

He’s a little surprised that the guests are none other than the Gilmores, Richard and Emily. The older gentleman looks fairly aged and much thinner than he used to be while Emily is growing old gracefully.

There is amicable chatter amongst the table as the older couple speak with his mother. He doesn’t say a word, merely nods occasionally and hums in agreement. It’s then that the elderly couple speaks of Rory that his ears perk up. He tries to keep it subtle, but out of the concern of her eyes his mom notices.

“Yes. Rory has been promoted to editor of the New York Times. She’s recently bought a condo there, lovely place it is, and will be moving there shortly.” speaks Emily with great fondness in her voice.

“She’s come far hasn’t she?”

“Oh absolutely. She’s in Stars Hollow for a few more weeks visiting with her mom before she flies out. It’s been nice to see the successful woman she’s become.” adds in Richard.

“Well maybe she can visit Tristan? He hasn’t seen anyone since he’s been back.”

“That’s a lovely idea! I think it will be good for Rory to see someone from her old high-school days.”

Tristan’s mom grins and looks at her son, with a promise hidden in the corner.

…

It’s later in the week that Tristan finds himself on the porch. Staring out into nothing as the door behind his squeaks.

“Tristan?”

Her voice is sweet like honey and he can’t believe she’s really here, that she _came here_ to see him. He turns the wheelchair around and his breath is caught because she’s more stunning than before.

She’s still got the same blue doe eyes but this time they’re filled with wisdom and confidence.

Her hair falls in waves of chocolate brown, like a fine mousse, and this time she has bangs. They suit her, he thinks, quite well.

But what truly makes him smile is her own which is directed at him. It’s soft and demure and most importantly, it has a promise tucked in its corner.

…

They talk for ages. From after he left Chilton to the present and what she’s done till now. The pair doesn’t notice the sun set, nor the lanterns turn on in the backyard. They don’t notice the sudden chill in the air or the fact that there’s a faint blush on eithers’ cheeks.

Too soon for their liking Tristan’s mother comes out telling them the time. Rory’s blush furthers as she gets up, she hands him her number and kisses his cheek to which then she heads to the door.

Before she finally leaves though the woman looks at him and they both smile at each other, a promise tucked in the corner.

…

His army buddies sit and laugh, enjoying the presence around the deck and barbeque. While Tristan may be stuck to a wheelchair he’s cherishing the few moments he can where no one cares that he’s disabled.

It’s then that the doorbell rings interrupting them all and Tristan wheels himself over. He grins at who it is, leading them to the deck area where laughter rings supreme. It’s silent as soon as she enters, wearing a modest floral dress suiting her to a tee.

“Guys this is Rory.”

Jaws drop as the friends realize that this isn’t just a Rory, this is _the_ Rory. She waves, “Tristan’s told me a lot about you all.”

And smiles, with a promise tucked in the corner.

…

The pair is cleaning up after everyone has left when a soft melody comes on. He turns to her, watching her hips sway as she hums the tune, dancing to herself.

He wheels himself over, eyes unable to leave her.

“Rory?”

“Hm?”

“Would you…would you dance with me?”

He’s nervous because the last time he even dreamt of this he knew she’d say no, knew she’d throw punch in his face and walk away and he couldn’t _bear_ that. Not then and most definitely not now.

He’s sitting there absolutely terrified until she comes over and nods, placing herself on his lap gently and letting him roll them across the floor slowly. They stay there even when the song is over and the playlist has finished. She pulls back and he brushes a strand away. She yawns then causing him to chuckle because she’s adorable but then again…

She’s always been. 

“Hey.” He whispers, soft and sweet.

“I should get going.” She echoes back in the soft melody.

“Stay.”

She looks at him with her doe eyes and smiles dreamily as she tries to keep them from falling shut.

“Okay.”

And her smile has a promise tucked in its corner.

…

It’s in the morning that he wakes up to a delicious smell. He pushes himself out of his luxurious sheets onto his chair, pushing it towards the closet. He changes and rolls down the ramp making his way to the kitchen. He stops at the doorway to see her fluttering around the kitchen like a butterfly, making things here and there.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

She turns around with a bright smile on her face.

“I learned to with Logan.”

Ah. Logan. The infamous ex she’s told him about. The one she loved too much, the one who broke her heart, the one who fell back into his old ways, the one she said no to.

“Really?”

He knows Logan. After all, their families have run in the same circles for years. He knew what a playboy he was, something they used to have in common, and could never understand why he would ever give up someone so amazing.

“Ready to eat?”

“Absolutely.”

She smiles again and this time there isn’t just one promise in the corner, there are a bunch.

…

The pair sees each other far more often, going for strolls in the park, visiting the world of Stars Hollow. He meets Lorelai Gilmore, or Danes as she now goes by. She raises an eyebrow at his stuck out hand when he introduces herself and all she can say as she looks over to her daughter is that Bible Boy got hot.

He’ll ask Rory about that another day.

He likes her family because they’re the one he never had. Luke seems to be a little rough but around his wife he softens up and you can see the love that flow between the two.

Both Tristan and Rory sigh at the same time seeing the pair in sync causing them to blush and look away.

But their eyes find each other again and it’s then that Rory takes his hand, squeezing it while smiling, a promise tucked in the corner.

…

It’s when she’s packing that he realizes how much he doesn’t want her to go. Two weeks goes by fast and it feels like he’s had no time with her at all.

And he wants a lifetime with her.

She mutters something about NYC coffee needing to be good and he chuckles, knowing that it’s such a Gilmore thing to want and he wonders if there’s a way to give that to her when she’s far away from him. To be fair, NYC isn’t that far, but if they ever become something…he doesn’t want her to be in a different city than him. He wants her to be _here_, beside him, _with him_.

“Rory…” he asks, insecurity and fear seeping in even though they’re no longer young kids wearing their hearts on their sleeves but jaded souls who have seen too much heartbreak to be vulnerable.

“Yes?” She turns, bright blues looking straight into his eyes. He finds himself at a loss for words, she can always render him speechless, and he knows that he has to at least ask…ask if she wants to try this…try them.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“With you?”

“Together. An item. A couple.”

“Tristian.”

“I know I’m a mess. The war has left mental scars on me which therapy has helped a little but there’s still things going on that need care. And I’m crippled. And I know you’ve got a job in New York City, so you may not want something long distance but…”

She kisses him, effectively shutting him up. When she pulls away, she’s grinning as he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He watches her as she sits on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a serious stare, and a promise tucked in the corner, she kisses him again gently.

“I want nothing more than to be with you.”

And Tristian’s heart soars at her words. _God_ this woman in his arms is stunning, _absolutely breathtaking_ and he’s so enraptured by her and everything she is and does. “Rory…” he whispers in a breath and she kisses him again. “Take me.”

And take her he does, with a promise tucked in the corner.

…

He waves bye to her as she enters her terminal, disappearing amongst a crowd. His hand slowly lowers, and he _swears _he won’t cry. His heart pounds for her with every step she takes away, begging him to chase after her but he knows better. Knows that she’s chasing her dream and he’s lucky enough to be included in it. There’s no need to run after her for no reason. He’s already got her.

The image of her lecturing him for pulling a Rachel and Ross makes him smile, because she’d be beyond irked at the move. But as he wheels his way to his ride, he wonders if maybe he should move to NYC. He could find work and the long-distance wouldn’t be an issue.

The more he dwells on the idea, the more he realizes that he doesn’t want to just move for her but also for himself. He’s been saddled in Hartford too long and it’s time he got out.

The question is what is it that he wants to do? He’s decently good at law (since he had so many incursions with it) and he’s got a wicked way with words. His mother always said he was a smooth talker. He had finished his Chilton credits when he had gotten back from the war thanks to his therapist so getting into a law school wouldn’t be an issue.

He slides into the fancy lexus, his driver closing the door. Tristian begins to smile bigger as the idea turns into a purpose and excitement bubbles in his veins. He’ll go to law school in NYC and become a lawyer there.

The whole idea makes him grin shamelessly, with a giant promise tucked in the corner.

…

He gets accepted pretty quickly to Columbia and he begins planning his life in NYC. His mom is thrilled with his moving forward, so excited that she calls him into her office one day and places a ring box in front of him.

“Mom?”

“It’s for Rory.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t play coy. I know she’s what’s spurred this sudden change of action into you and I know that you’ve made up your mind that’s she’s the one for you. I adore Rory. I think she’s perfect for you and that you need to lock her down. That’s your great grandmother’s ring. Rory will love it. You can pop the question when you see her in her office.”

His mother smirks as she sashays away but he can only stare at the ring in the box in his hands and he knows that she’ll love it. The setting, the stones, the band. Everything that this ring was, _was Rory_.

And he could picture perfectly in his mind slipping the ring on her finger, and her smile brightening, with the promise tucked in the corner.

…

His plane lands in NYC a few days later once his future is all sorted. Rory and he chat every night but he never tells her that he’s coming to her only that he adores her and can’t wait to visit soon.

Little does she know how close soon is.

He brings himself to the parking garage where his ride awaits him and then the driver whisks them to his new home to make sure everything is settled. It’s a small place off campus near the university he’ll be attending for his undergrad.

He checks everything over, making sure it’s all in place before he has himself taken to the New York Times office, where his true love awaits. He rolls in, smiling here and there and he swears that his heart will beat out of his chest. He’s nervous, clammy palms and sweat trickling his brow.

She’ll say yes he hopes. Yes to them forever and yes to being his wife. _Oh_ how he would love to call her his wife.

Soon he’s in front of her office and he knocks gently. He knows she’s heard him, he can hear the shuffling behind the wood, the muttering of swear words until the door opens.

“Tristian!”

She’s surprised and the grin she gives him is worth the entire time it took to get to her. Then again, it’s always worth it.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes! Of course.” She steps aside, still beaming as he rolls past her. He settles himself beside her chair which she slips into effortlessly. He can feel himself dripping in sweat, his nerves fraying at the question dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“Rory…”

“Yes?”

“I came to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

“And before you answer just know that I live in NYC now and will be attending university in the fall. So I’m not here solely because you are.”

“Tristan wha-”

“Mare, will you marry me?”

She sputters like a fish, gaping at the ring he holds before her. She caresses it gently, closing her mouth as she continues to stare in awe at the piece of jewelry. “Tristan this is…”

“I know it’s fast. But I just…there’s no one else. You’re it for me Mary. You’re the one I want. Forever.”

Tears begin to shimmer in her eyes and soon they fall down her cheeks as rivers flow to the oceans. She is smiling so brightly he dare not disturb her happiness. “Put it on.”

He join in her tears, overwhelmed by sheer joy that she has silently said yes. She demurely slides the ring onto her fourth finger, kissing it once it has been settled and she pulls him into a searing kiss.

“You’re it for me too Bible Boy.”

And he knows she means it, because he can see the promise tucked in the corner of her smile.

…


End file.
